crysloves



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    June 2014, Las Vegas

    Post the Las Vegas Scene, sub!Shane drops hard and Dom!Ilya races to save him.

    ****

    From Jane: We didn't even kiss

    Shane didn't mean to send the text. He was so dizzy and cold and unsteady after leaving Ilya's room, he didn't even remember if he HAD sent the text. His fingers were too numb to undo his shirt buttons, he felt like the floor was dropping out from beneath him, he was nauseous and exhausted and didn't know why he couldn't stop shaking, why couldn't he stop shaking...?

    From Jane: ww dnt v ks

    The text came through as gibberish, and “Fuck.” Ilya threw his clothes back on and ran to get to Shane's hotel room. He'd been too far in his head to pay attention to Shane being quiet and shivering after they were done. Shane had stumbled getting out of bed, bumped into furniture, struggled with the door and Ilya had heard it but he'd been too much of a coward to get out of bed and check and now his submissive was sending gibberish texts and that wasn't good.

    “Sorry sorry sorry.” Ilya muttered as he ran. “I’m coming. I’m coming, hold on.” 

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    23 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    The touch is gentle and the cream is soothing but that doesn't stop the soft yelp that escapes Shane's lips at the touch. It isn't dissimilar to any other bruise he's gotten in his life, especially playing such a high velocity, full contact sport for a living. Except, those bruises were always angry and gnarled and put there in bouts of aggression and violence.

    The bruises under Ilya's wide, warm palms were put there with love and devotion, with whispered words of degradation chased with the candied edge of praise. Each gently throbbing bruise and slightly raised welt decorating his skin this morning were honeyed kisses placed with perfect precision by the man who Shane has devoted himself to – mind, body, and soul.

    Or, Shane experiences subdrop at an in opportune time and Ilya helps him.

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    22 Jun 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    “Please,” he says finally, voice breaking as he gives in. “Fuck, please, Rozanov, I’m gonna—”

    Rozanov pulls all the way back, mouth releasing his cock with a noise that makes Shane’s hips rock up into nothing.

    “Rozanov,” he begs again.

    “Hmm?” Rozanov asks, kissing Shane’s shaking thigh gently. “You need something?”

    “You— fuck— you said I could come,” Shane says, trying to keep the accusatory note out of his voice.

    “Mhm. When you say my name, yes?”

    “I did!” Shane insists, just a hint of a whine in his tone now. Rozanov smirks at him.

    “Oh, sweetheart,” he says. “My first name.”

    OR:

    Ilya does something a little different on tuna melt day.

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    20 Jun 2026

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    “Go?” Rozanov repeats, and Shane thinks he manages to nod, thinks he manages to spin some kind of excuse that he knows Rozanov doesn’t really buy, but he needs to go. He needs to get out of here. He needs to find somewhere quiet and calm where he can ride out this panic and painful tightness until he can catch his breath again. He needs-

    He needs to go.

    “I’m sorry,” he says, turning heel and resisting the urge to just book it right for the front door only because he’d rather not have to explain to Hayden why he returned from a hookup with Boston Lily in men’s clothes that he certainly didn’t leave in.

    It’s not until he makes it halfway up the stairs to Rozanov’s bedroom that it occurs to him in a cold rush that it isn’t just anxiety that makes it this hard to breathe.

    “No,” he tells himself firmly, white knuckling the bannister and trying to take a deep breath just to prove that he can.

    It wheezes.

    (how the tuna meltdown is averted through the power of food allergies and anaphylaxis)

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    20 Jun 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    After a win in Chicago, Shane agrees to go out with the team.

    Ilya forgets his wedding ring. Shane notices.

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    15 Jun 2026